The Passionate Shepherd To His Love - Poem by Christopher Marlowe

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Come live with me and be my love,And we will all the pleasures proveThat valleys, groves, hills, and fields,Woods, or steepy mountain yields.And we will sit upon rocks,Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,By shallow rivers to whose fallsMelodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of rosesAnd a thousand fragrant poises,A cap of flowers, and a kirtleEmbroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest woolWhich from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair lined slippers for the cold,With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,With coral clasps and amber studs; And if these pleasures may thee move,Come live with me, and be my love.

The shepherds's swains shall dance and singFor thy delight each May morning:If these delights thy mind may move,Then live with me and be my love.

It's always refreshing to read poetry from a time when sight rhyme like move and love were commonplace and not lost on the reader... I think it was such an intimate thing between poet and reader. In todays world, where we run at such maddening pace, and are swamped over completely with electronic devices that rule us - it seems such lovely little things have become lost. Sadly. My favorite poets - all of the 18th and 19th centuries - use sight rhyme prolifically. I find it quite endearing, as though the authors themselves were sitting across from me winking as I fall into their worlds. As for the rest of the poem - I find it a beautiful quatrain enticement to win the heart of a young damsel... The meter is near perfect and was most certainly appraised by his contemporaries as immaculate.... With that said - this first poem of his that I have read does not move me in any particular way. Perhaps if I were a starry eyed damsel in 1550 it would have a different effect on me. As a general rule I do not like love poems because love is rarely the cause for them. If you are enticing someone you barely know to be your woman, how could that be love? Love is rarely the cause of such poems. Sounds more like mother nature and hormones to me. What bothers me most about it is not that such human and innate things exists, but rather that so many bards prefer to mask it with flowery speech and hide behind a mistaken label of love. Love is something that comes after courtship....(Report)Reply